Never Yours ✔️

Bonus Chapter 1: The Trade Cities Have Fallen

He walked through the city, jostled back and forth by passerbys, darting out of the way of passings horses and carriages. The city was alive and prosperous, but he looked dead. His skin paler than snow, shadowed by inky black hair that reached his neckline, eyes bright yellowy gold, with grime coating his mismatched clothes, he seemed freshly risen from the grave.

He clutched his pack to his chest and shoved his way up to the castle, but at the entrance, the guards stepped in his way.

"Please," He begged, "I'm from the trade cities. I need to see the king."

The guards laughed at him.

"Sure thing, boy." One sneered.

"Now get lost." The other snapped.

He lowered his head and dug through his pocket until he retrieved a ring. He held it up to them and they paled.

"The Dreadroot crest." One whispered.

The other bristled. "How did you get ahold of that, commoner?"

The boy lifted his eyes to theirs, and the gold sparkled with danger.

"It's mine."

The guards stepped back. "Oh-of course–I'm so sorry–please forgive me...Lord Dreadroot."

"We'll get you an audience with the king, immediately."

The second guard turned and rushed into the castle.

The first looked around for a servant, catching sight of a cloaked figure walking up the castle steps.

"You there!" He called. "Take–"

But he stumbled to a stop when the figure turned and thin, pale hands reached up and flicked back the hood.

Light blonde hair fluttered in the breeze, hiding a soft, thin face with delicate features, and bright, sea-green eyes. A teasing smile touched her gentle lips.

"Yes, Steven?"

The guard jumped to attention. "Princess Arysa, I am so, so sorry! I thought you were–"

"Someone else?" She chuckled.

Her gaze drifted behind him and her head cocked to the side.

"Who's this?"

She started down the steps and the boy's chest tightened. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her and her light, nimble movements. She seemed as delicate as glass, glinting with the reflected sunlight she cast around her, but when his eyes drifted to her clothes, to the practical tunic, deep brown leggings, and kneehigh boots, to the dagger hanging off her belt, he knew she was not glass.

"This–this is Lord Dreadroot." He stammered.

Her eyes flit to him and her brows furrowed and she hesitated as her gaze ran him up and down.

"I didn't know Emerus had a son."

He swallowed, and for a moment he couldn't speak, and he just held out his family crest.

She took it and rolled it between her fingers, not even bothering to inspect the crest.

"What's your name?"

He cleared his throat. "Serden."

She smiled. "You've gone through quite the journey, Serden. Let's get you inside and get you some fresh clothes and then you can tell us all about it, okay?"

He shook his head. "N-no. I need to see the king now."

The princess's brows creased but she nodded. "Alright." She tossed him back his ring. "Come with me."

She turned and started up the steps and he followed. His head tilted up at the castle around him, great pillars and arching ceilings, tapestries detailed as he'd never seen on every wall, gilded vases with fresh cut flowers on every glass table, and grand open windows.

"The Raida Castle is quite something isn't it?" The princess said from ahead of him and he jerked, unaware she had been watching him. She laughed. "But I'm sure the Dreadroot Castle's close to rivaling it, hm?

Serden's head flashed with images of burning ceilings and crumpled walls, carpets scattered with glass, and marble floors stained with blood.

"Not even." He murmured.

She reached a dark wooden door and knocked lightly upon it.

"Uncle Darion?" She called.

"Come in." A deep rumbling voice answered.

She opened the door and waved Serden after her.

The king sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of books and papers, his forehead in his hand. He glanced up when she entered, and he straightened at the sight of Serden.

"Arysa?" He asked. "Who's this?"

"Serden Dreadroot." She replied. "He insisted upon seeing you."

Serden stepped forward, wringing his hands. He tilted his head down and bent his knees in a slight bow. "Your highness, the Trade Cities have been attacked."

The king tensed. "What do you mean? If there was an attack we would have heard about it."

Serden cleared his throat. "Sire, I think I misspoke. I believe the accurate thing to say would be The Trade Cities have been conquered.

The king lurched to his feet. "What?"

Serden avoided his eyes. "It all happened so fast." He breathed. "Armies stronger than we've ever seen with numbers unparalleled. They came out of nowhere in the night and took all three cities at once." He grew quiet. "Everyone is dead."

The princess gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

The kings' fingers curled into fists. "That isn't possible."

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who got out alive." He said quietly.

"How could you be the only survivor?"

Serden looked down. "It was intentional, your highness."

The king stilled, his eyes turning on him.

"Explain."

"My family was targeted first." Serden started quietly. "We were all taken captive, forced to watch as our city burned. When everything went quiet, and the screams died out, we were dragged to the top of Dreadroot Castle where a tall, cloaked figure awaited us. He never turned around, but he never needed to. Even his soldiers were afraid of him." He sucked in a deep, shaky breath. "They killed my parents right in front of me. Then he spoke, with a voice so deep and dark, it shook me straight to the core. He told me to deliver a message. He said, "Tell the king that I am coming."

The king's jaw clenched, and he seemed to go pale.

"Arysa," He said lowly. "Tell the guards to gather the council."

She nodded and left the room, and the king turned to Serden, a dark look in his eyes.

"And you, you're going to tell me exactly what you saw."

And thin lips turned up into a smirk as he replied in a soft, daunting voice, "Of course, your highness."